


Your Mouth Is Poison (Your Mouth Is Wine)

by Blackparade



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A lot of feels, Civil War, Clint and Natasha - Freeform, Dancing, F/M, Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5294555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackparade/pseuds/Blackparade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She knew he would be here, because he's the only one able to pull off a reconnaissance op like this.</p>
<p>That's not technically true. James could probably be in and out before either her or Clint had flirted their way in, but he and Steve have every eye in the world on them right now, making this a job left only for Clint's skill set.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Mouth Is Poison (Your Mouth Is Wine)

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE. PLEASE do yourself a favor and listen to Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars while reading this! Despite having the perfect name for the content of this work, it's such a Clint/Nat song!

She knew he would be here. 

Ross throws the same gala every year, with a guest list including everything from high school friends to foreign ambassadors. It's a breeding ground for intel.

Get just the right fool just drunk enough, and you've got more information than the Library of Congress. 

She knew he would be here, because he's the only one able to pull off a reconnaissance op like this.

That's not technically true. James could probably be in and out before either her or Clint had flirted their way in, but he and Steve have every eye in the world on them right now, making this a job left only for Clint's skill set.

She's been in the same shoes as Steve before. Knows that loving someone means doing everything in your power to see them safe.

She takes another somber sip of her Chardonnay, wondering why three men who have been of utmost importance to her at one point or another in her life are now on the opposing end of what is easily the most hopeless struggle to ever come to fruition. 

When she turns, even knowing in the back of her mind that he would be among the crowd, she's utterly unprepared to see him standing there. 

He's messing with his ears. To anyone else, that's all he's doing. Nat knows better. Knows that it was some foolhardy sense of validation that made Clint choose virtually invisible hearing aids. 

The problem here being, they hurt like Hell. Rest too far down in the ear lobe to ever be comfortable. 

It only takes a few moments before she has to look away.

In between wiping away blood and icing down bruises, she used to take her hands that were far too often used for horrific and gruesome things, and slowly massage away his pain. 

That was when he still trusted her touch, relished in her voice, got high on her smile.

"Care to dance?"

It's an almost youthful sigh that passes her lips unbidden, turning to have her breath taken away.

He's in a grey three-piece suit, an almost perfect contrast to her sleek black gown. 

She feels a brazened and unwelcome apprehension being this close to him, almost identical to that of the teenage girl paralyzed with fear standing on the receiving end of his drawn arrow a lifetime ago.

Then, he smiles at her. Holds out his hand for her to take, places trust in her.

"Yes-"

She holds back the slew of other responses she has on her lips, wanting to be baptized one last time in his presence.

"I'd like that."

Almost immediately, muscle memory takes over, and their hands meld together just like they were always meant to.

He leads her to the center of the floor, then slowly turns and pulls her close to his chest.

He doesn't say a word, just begins moving in perfect synchronicity with her body. When he places a hand on the small of her back, a distant part of her screams, 'safe. with him I'm safe'.

"Clint....."

His name tastes bitter sweet, something almost mournful in the way it rolls off of her lips.

"No. Whatever we're both here for, whatever means to whatever end we're serving, it can wait."

He pulls her ever closer, until they are breathing the same air. Then, he whispers,

"It's just you and me, Tasha. Right here, right now, that's all that matters."

So, she gives in. Let's her feet spin her around the floor, allowing herself to remain grounded in the warmth of the man pressed beside her.

As the quartet of strings hold the few remaining strains of the final chord, she wants nothing more than to scream, cry, beg Clint to understand that she's doing what he taught her she was capable of.

She's fighting for a cause she believes in, using her own mind to make her own decisions.

And she's absolutely terrified of losing him because of it.

He turns to leave, and she is helpless to stop the tears stinging her eyes.

Then, he spins on his heel and faces her once again, placing a soft hand on her cheek, very gingerly wiping away the first tear she allows fall.

"Tasha. I'll keep you safe, no matter what. I promise."

Then, he goes. Turns and disappears into the crowds of people completely oblivious to her being absolutely overcome with emotion.

She feels for the familiar solidity of the small silver arrow hanging around her neck, and for once in her life, allows herself this unguarded moment.


End file.
